


Celestial Reprimanding

by orphan_account



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Heaven is weird man idk, I think crowleys car is in aziraphales garage no?, M/M, Masturbation, Overstimulation, Sex Toys, i dont know how to fucking tag uh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-25 00:42:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20023702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Crackhead idea I threw together at 11PM that heaven uses a creative punishment style, but Aziraphale ends up enjoying it far too much. I didn't proofread this We Die With Valor!!





	1. Chapter 1

With the flick of his shaking wrist and a snap, the shutters closed, the door locked, and the sign at the front of the shop flipped from open to closed. A reprimand. Aziraphale gave a quivering sigh as he repeated the phrase in his head, muttering, trying to keep focused on anything as his head swam. 

Mankind was much more complex than it was 6000 years ago. There were countless moving parts, and heaven didn't necessarily have the time to check up on one angel in Soho every time he did something wrong. As a matter of fact, a lot of his actions went unchecked for long periods of time, decades even. This didn't exclude the pestering check-ups from an archangel or two when they had a particularly sensitive ongoing project. Needless to say, Aziraphale was not perfect by harsh angel standards. Blending in with humans naturally required what Gabriel had called "tarnishing his divine self," when it was simply behaving human to keep his post on earth. Aziraphale has always told Crowley that one must know sin to battle and resist it, but the demon knows that you wouldn't keep saying that unless it was simply an excuse to trick oneself with. 

By such angelic standards, heaven also kept track of his small imperfections, or minor sins, over time. One could also say that the punishments upstairs had also become more bizarre. Uncomfortable small talk with Gabriel had revealed such, and gave a regrettable foreshadowing to what he saw coming for himself, and everything mentioned had made Aziraphale's stomach turn in an emotion he couldn't or refused to identify. He did remember a drawn out discussion with Crowley about kink shaming, and he never thought he would ever have to apply it in anything he faced, yet the almighty works in mysterious ways. 

In short, staff upstairs, not having the time to deal with him properly, 'installed' a device to his person, intended to right his wrongs. He hated that they put it so formally that way. Installed was no way to describe the device that had been buried inside him, specifically his effort. He grimaced when Gabriel told him excitedly how it operated. The said device was meant to deliver a shock when its host was in the presence of sin, body or mind, all for 30 days.

He could hear and almost see Crowley say, "Angel, those creeps made you wear a freaky celestial vibrator?" and he laughed, sharply cut off as his breath hitched and he tightened his grip on the sofa. He had long since figured out that thinking about a demon was against the rules, unless it was negatively, and he had no negative thoughts about Crowley. He had experienced it first when he contemplated how he would tell Crowley about the whole mess on his long elevator ride on the way back to earth. The rules he was to adhere to did not like the thought of consorting, and his knees buckled when it sent a violent pulse through his body, taking every drop of effort in his body to not scream in that glass elevator. 

Being in his bookshop kept it at a dull speed all on its own, Crowley's lingering demonic presence still inhabiting his space. He couldn't fix that and had nowhere else to go, and attempted to ignore it for as long as possible. 

However, the soft speed it maintained did not stay that way. It didn't so much "right your wrongs" as it reminded him of them. An angel wing mug, his cufflinks, decorations around the shop, all vanity. His expansive collection of rare books reflected pride and greed. He gasped and gently ran a finger over his lip. The toy picked up its pace. Running a hand softly over his stomach, waist, thighs, reminded so much by other angels, gluttony. It vibrated harder and the only thing he could do was weakly clasp a hand over his mouth. 

Crowley. The damned thing he twitched and spasmed around went crazy at the thought of Crowley. His legs spread on instinct and he miracled the bottom half of his clothing away, unbuttoning his shirt but leaving it on his shoulders. He couldn't bear that pair of pants getting dirty, he'd kept them pristine for 46 years after all! A curious hand drifted lower and grazed over the bottom of the smooth metal but it burned his hand and his hips bucked forward from how hard it buzzed momentarily at him, an obvious precaution in place to keep him from removing it himself. It buzzed even harder when he realized he wanted it to, shame and lust forcing a strangled moan from his bitten and reddened lips. 

Throwing a leg over the armrest, he situated himself so that he straddled the firm couch while hugging the back of it as hard as he could. Every action was clumsy and lacking grace, whimpering and gasping. Not being allowed to touch with his hands, he forcefully thrust his hips into the armrest to cram as much of the toy into his dripping cunt as possible with no resistance from his wanting body. The rough fabric grazed his clit and bright and brilliant wings manifested without his control, spreading out as tears of pleasure jerked themselves from his tired eyes. Moving his hips hurriedly bounced him gently as he repeated his previous actions, small and shallow thrusts coupled with the violent vibration of the toy sheathed entirely inside him made him shake. 

He ignored the wet spot on his couch as it worsened quicker and quicker. Only adding to the mess, he pressed the side of his head into the couch and couldn't stop himself from drooling as the onslaught continued. He was suddenly relieved that upstairs didn't have the time to deal with him more in person, because he would not be able to stand behaving like his in front of anyone else. Anyone he knew, upstairs only perhaps, but he certainly wouldn't mind if Crowley popped in and watched. Oh, that shot sparks to his brain and he could hardly think straight. Imagining Crowley with him, first a bit embarrassed to have walked in on such a thing, then mercilessly taunting and teasing, maybe taking pity on him and fucking his ass for him- 

Aziraphale forced out a strangled cry his eyes rolled back, hard orgasm taking every last bit of energy from him as he quaked, every nerve burning like hellfire as he gushed over the couch he was sure to replace later, panting and twitching like his life depended on it. 

The worst thing was that the pace of toy barely slowed and he could only think about Crowley. All of his senses remained bombarded and his only very brief thoughts were that he thought his brain would melt before the 30 day period and that he dearly wished Crowley was there. 

He was rewarded with no rest from his exertion and it kept him unable to detect the snap, swing, door jingle, and the slam of the shop door coupled with the clack of snakeskin boots on hardwood.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *SLAPS THIS DOWN* Its rushed but its here, enjoy!

His brain or the celestial equivalent of what organized his mind was left scrambled and nonfunctioning by normal means. Having what he could arguably consider one of the best orgasms in his life brief moments ago, his thoughts had taken a pause alongside the intensity of his punishment being the gradual result. He lounged back on the couch in a way he would only when a drink away from blackout drunk, legs spread, and panting heavily (despite the lack of needing to breathe) while bathing in a heavenly afterglow. 

While Aziraphale couldn't directly detect Crowley's presence, he felt it in a steady increase in vibration that he couldn't think of a reason for at the moment.

Crowley on the other hand, the poor thing, heard the staggering whine from him in the back room and immediately assumed his angel was in a great deal of pain. He had rushed to the back and stopped steps away from the door and was almost knocked backwards by the waves of arousal that felt like he was punched in the chest. For moments that felt far longer than they should have, he staggered to the doorframe and clung to it. Crowley had swallowed and tuned into every gentle gasp and whimper filling the room. Something inside him felt wrong about listening, and the only common sense that hadn't left him was that he was violating his privacy, but it slid away like water on a duck when he heard his name float into the space softly. Lack of common sense in mind, he immediately threw his head around the doorframe to answer in a voice barely above a whisper, "yes, Angel?" 

Oh, Aziraphale's reaction was almost enough to make Crowley swallow his tongue. His previous hazy behavior is pushed aside by quick movement, wide eyes, and the completely irrational snap of his fingers that takes tremendous concentration to successfully clothe himself entirely. The result is a flushed and trembling Aziraphale that struggles to stand and stay standing, discomfort quickly returning due to being clothed and trying to compose himself in any way, fidgeting under Crowley's constant gaze. 

The angel starts a sentence (excuse), fails, swallows thickly, and tries again. With blown pupils, untidy hair, and his lip puffy from near constant biting, he exhales roughly. After long seconds, he speaks. "I thought… was under the impression that you wouldn't visit until later in the week." With every word to the demon, he felt the toy pulse and his knees almost gave out. God help him if he made eye contact now.

"And is that bad," he began, and Crowley approached him as awkwardly as someone who has just forgotten how to walk like a person, "what's wro-"

"Sit. Now." Aziraphale snapped at him, though the thin layer of urgency barely held back a whimpered "please, dear" from his lips, Crowley was already stumbling over to the sofa. He sat just at the edge, eyes snagged into the damp spot in the armrest before focusing right back on Aziraphale. 

"Are you going to tell me what the hell is wrong with you or are you going to make me play guess?" Crowley started, and even though he sounded irritated, both knew that he was extremely worried, his hands fidgeting non-stop. Aziraphale carefully made his way to stand in front of him, cautious to stay at least 5 inches away, eyes fixed on the floor. Another shivering sigh. "You must promise you won't laugh."

Crowley nodded. His eyes were too honest mixed with his nervous smile. He remained silent.

"I'm currently- well, currently being reprimanded. By… you know, upstairs. Too many minor sins or something like it, they said" Aziraphale began, his eyes now wandering, but staying away from Crowley's face like light avoids the shadows. He didn't know how to explain, where to properly begin and just get it over with. "For thirty days, today being the first, I have t' wear a device that punishes depending on the levels of sin I am in contact with!" He had said it all so quickly that a couple of words slurred together, and Crowley simply blinked. 

"Not sure I understand" Crowley muttered. 

Aziraphale raised his hand from his side and waited. His eyes resumed their position on the floor. He snapped, the dull ring signalling a miracle followed, and he revealed himself again, everything gone except a vest, cream colored shirt, and socks with tasteful garters. The demon went slack jawed. 

"I'm positive you know what this is" Aziraphale whispered, embarrassed as without looking, he knew where Crowley's eyes were trained. His smooth legs, drenched thighs, and the metallic silver "device" that was not thin by any means. Crowley experimentally pressed a fingertip to the base of the toy, shining even more with his slick coating it like honey, and he felt lightheaded when Aziraphale made a breathy moan that encouraged him to move it by a fraction. 

"Oh, Angel" the demon said softly, and it was all he could make out before appreciative hands rose to stroke along his thighs. As he made contact, Aziraphale's eyes finally met his. The touch and the contact made his knees buckle and finally give out as he collapsed between Crowley's legs with a groan. 

"I can't take this, no matter what I do I can't get it to stop!" He whined, cradling his head on the others inner thigh. Knees spread wide, his hands landed on the floor to steady himself. They slowly drew up from the floor and clung tightly to Crowley's knees when he noticed the tightness in his jeans, mere inches away from his face. 

The demon didn't know what to do except card his fingers through platinum blond curls. Removing his hands, the angel undid his belt, a single button, and settled his hands on slim hips as he made unbroken eye contact catching his zipper between his teeth and tugging. 

Pulling aside his waistband, Aziraphale wet his lip the slightest bit as he readjusted, revealing an erection that made him slightly dizzy to look at. Seconds after he had hovered his mouth at his glistening head, the toy buzzed angrily as Crowley used one hand to drill his cock in between swollen lips. Just as the hand pushing him down by his hair was strong, Aziraphale also forced himself down and waited as he felt the weight on his tongue twitch pressed against his throat. Fast and rushed, he managed to pull the angel's head back and forth 4 times before he saw Aziraphale's eyes roll back, staying down and moaning around Crowley's cock as he was taken by a second orgasm, just as much if not stronger than the last. 

The sight of it made Crowley throb with need, pulling his angel's head back and coming in his open mouth and on his face. Both enjoyed delightful aftershocks as Aziraphale licked his lips and settled his head back on the others leg, Crowley continuing to stroke his hair and praise him softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boyyyy,, I'll continue when I got the time, perhaps over this weekend?

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry you read that, good night, I'll write more if theres comments i guess. My incentive for more chapters is brought about with the thought of aziraphale convincing crowley to clean his couch because he would always know the stain was there


End file.
